


for our hollow homes

by piggy09



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6969688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helena and Sarah talk on the phone after the events of last week's episode. I just want them to talk to each other, okay? That's all I want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for our hollow homes

Siobhan is crying in the back room of the safehouse, low heartbroken noises, and Sarah can’t – she can’t _take_ this, she can’t be in this room where everyone is mourning yet another one of her mistakes. She pulls on her jacket and storms out of the room, keeps walking and walking until she’s somewhere else. It’s a shitty urban park, all the trees withering for autumn, all the grass trampled-on and dead. She sits on a bench, rests her head in her hands. She’s shaking. She hadn’t realized.

She wants to be somewhere else, besides here. Somewhere where people aren’t in pain.

She’s pulling out her phone and dialing before she can think about it; the phone rings and rings and Sarah feels a dull thud of surprise that the person on the other end isn’t picking up. Then she feels guilt. She probably shouldn’t have expected—

“Sarah?” Helena says. No _hello_ , no _you haven’t responded to any of my texts or any of the pictures I sent you or anything, anything_. Just Sarah’s name.

“Hey, meathead,” Sarah sighs. Pauses. “Helena.”

“Hello, _sestra_ ,” Helena says. “Are you alright?”

“Mind if we don’t get into it?” Sarah says, winces at the teariness in her voice. “How – how’re you?”

Helena’s silent, for a moment, and Sarah knows that she knows – something. Helena’s always too good at knowing what Sarah’s feeling; that’s why Sarah works so hard to keep her at arm’s length. Keep her from getting too close to touch.

 _Don’t_ , she thinks, as if her thoughts could crawl along telephone lines and whisper in Helena’s ear. _Please don’t._

“Today I saw…seven dogs,” Helena says lightly. “One of them was black and white, in patches. They are all my friends.”

Sarah lets out a gulp of a laugh, choked with tears. “Hey, that’s great,” she says. “Seven dogs! Wow.”

“Yes,” Helena says, and Sarah pictures her – sitting sprawled out, legs folded into some weird position, hands fiddling at whatever’s close by. She can hear music, faintly, in the background. That doesn’t mean anything. Helena could be anywhere.

“Where are you?” she asks. Blurts. She winces at the words coming out of her mouth, the way they sound.

Helena hums. “Not too far.” There’s a silence on both ends of the line and Sarah can feel a weight in it, like a storm’s coming.

“Sarah,” Helena says carefully, “do you want me to come back?”

And there’s the storm. She can hear the shiver of raindrops in Helena’s voice, hope and fear and longing. Enough to drown Sarah, if she’d let it. She knows it would be enough to drown her.

She doesn’t answer. The silence lingers, heavy with bottled-up thunder. It goes on and on and on.

“One of my babies kicked today,” Helena says quietly, into the silence. “Very pointy, those little feet.”

“They do that,” Sarah says. “Just means they’re growing.”

“I don’t—” Helena says, and stops. “I don’t want – them – to fight.”

Sarah closes her eyes, leans her head back, feels the rush of something like guilt pouring over her. “Oh, meathead,” she sighs. “They’re not fighting. Your belly’s just not big enough for them yet.”

“I am eating lots,” Helena says, sounding confused. Sarah can’t help laughing again.

“I’m sure you are.”

Helena hums: _mm._ “Did you know,” she says, “that there are thirty-two flavors of ice cream.”

“There’re more, actually,” Sarah says.

Helena sucks in a breath. “ _No_.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a miracle,” Helena says seriously.

“Wait’ll you see Ben & Jerry’s.”

“I would like to be meeting them.”

Car headlights sweep by in the dark. _Run_ , says a voice in the pit of Sarah’s stomach. _Run, get out of here, leave all your mistakes behind you._ And there’s Helena, on the other side of the phone. Who would love, more than anything, to have Sarah there.

“Are you doing okay?” she asks.

Helena’s silent, for a moment, as if considering the question. “Yes,” she says. “I think so.”

“Good,” Sarah says. “I’m – I’m really glad, Helena.” By the time she says Helena’s name she’s crying. It’s awful. This feels like it’s barely her loss; she’s not allowed to it, Cosima’s voice wrecked with sobs on the other end of the phone, Kendall burning. Siobhan hiding away to tend to her grief. Why should Sarah be crying? It’s her fault, isn’t it?

“Deep breaths, _sestra_ ,” Helena says. “It is not as bad as you think, maybe.”

It is. But Helena doesn’t know, and Sarah’s so glad. She’s so glad that Helena can’t smell the smoke from all these fires.

“Sorry,” she says. “Long day.”

“You can – tell me,” Helena says carefully. “If you want. I can listen.”

 _I can hold it_ , Helena says. Maybe she could. God knows Helena’s scarred shoulders have held so many things. But she’s out there in the world eating thirty-two flavors of ice cream, and Sarah can’t do this to her.

“Might take you up on that sometime,” Sarah says.

“But not now.”

“No,” Sarah says, “not now.”

“Alright,” Helena says easily. “Oh! _Sestra_. Tell Kira I say hello.”

“I’ll do that,” Sarah says. “Say hi to your babies. Tell ‘em Auntie Sarah says to stop kicking you so much.”

“Auntie Sarah,” Helena says, and Sarah can hear the smile in her voice. “Okay.

“Good night, Sarah.”

“Night,” Sarah says, and she hangs up.

**Author's Note:**

> Will you follow me across?   
> (You know I'll have to think about it)  
> Will you follow, loved and lost?   
> (You know I'll have to think about it)  
> Gotta run now, will you come with me?  
> Border crosser, my border crosser  
> Gotta run now, will you be my  
> Border crosser, my border crosser?
> 
> I'll keep whistling on that tune we wrote  
> I'll keep whistling for the hills we know  
> I'll keep whistling for our hollow homes  
> I'll keep whistling  
> Whether you come or you don't  
> \--"Border Crosser," Trails And Ways
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please kudos and comment if you enjoyed! :)


End file.
